Love the Monster
by Blasphemous Rumours
Summary: Life had become bitter and lonely for Hannibal Lecter at the Baltimore State Hospital for the Criminally Insane, but what will happen when an FBI trainee is sent to him searching help with the profile of a very naughty boy named Buffalo Bill? This story will mix the books, the tv show and the movies, and will depart from cannon in the future. Rated M for mature contents.
1. Chapter 1 - Lovecrime

Hi everyone! This is my first attempt of fanfiction. My plan is to update the chapters every one/two weeks for those who could be interested in the story but as the plot thickens the update time will increase.

There's some warnings to be made: this is not a hannigram fic, Will appears only in the first chapter. This is not a fluff story either, maybe a little romantic but in a very lecteresque way. It pretends to be very dark and introspective for each of our protagonists.

This story will mix the books, the tv show and the movies, I will explain the details at the beginning of every chapter.

My main goal is to show how the passage from Hannibal season three of tv show to season four should be made if production and scripting decisions wouldn't had banned Clarice from the show, like it sadly happened. I hope to expose Hannibal and Clarice's point of view in some critical points of their relationship and its development along all the encounters they have and departing from the Hannibal movie finale and from cannon.

I wish you enjoy reading this story as much as I enjoyed writing it. All reviews and ideas about the plot or the characters will be very appreciated! And forgive any mispelling, English isn't my mother tongue.

Note: the numbers between brackets in the text are related to a song that I was listening when I was writing that part, in the end of the chapter they will be listed for you if you want to listen them.

 _Disclaimer: I don't own anything but the plot._

* * *

 **Chapter 1 - Lovecrime**

(1)

 _Oh, the dye_

 _A blood red setting sun_

 _Rushing through my veins_

 _Burning up my skin._

 _I will survive, live and thrive_

 _Win this deadly game._

The cristal clear beam of diaphanous light cut the penumbra like a knife in the cool atmosphere under the _duomo,_ inside of the breath-taking Santa Maria del Fiore. In exactly five minutes the ray of sunlight that unabasedhly filtered from the gnomon on the ceiling of the _duomo_ would overlap perfectly with Toscanelli's disk on the marble floor of the Chapel of the Cross, to the left of the High Altar, announcing the beginning of Summer Solstice.

Hannibal Lecter was standing beside Toscanelli's disk intensenly enjoying the presence of the light by his side, watching the motes of dust dancing in the bright air but aware off remaining in the shadowy side, of course. His reddish brown eyes looked casually at the tip of his italian shoes just to switch his interest to the antique marble floor. The voices of the cathedral choir echoed the first stanzas of Mozart's Requiem _Domine Jesu Christe_ in the very heart of the duomo, a mischievous smile full of contentment spread across his features.

 _Libera eas de ore leonis,_

 _ne absorbeat eas tartarus,_

 _ne cadant in obscurum._

Deliver them from the lion's mouth,

lest hell swallow them up,

lest they fall into darkness.

The lion's mouth, how appropriate. If there was an indisputable fact that he could confirm through the years was that God, if such entity could exist, had a twisted sense of humor and no mercy with those that had fallen in his hands, faithful or not. Nevertheless, the music and the atmosphere were lovely.

"Sorry, faithful people, but somebody will eventually fall on the lion's mouth", he thought and a grin spread across his face "Maybe Alana". A deep sight escaped from his chest while the beam of light was fading, drawing away its brightness from him, he was losing the _momentum_. On the other side, in the gloomed bottom of the High Altar, some figures were taking form. He knew who they were very well…

One was Alana, to whom he had a promise to fulfill. On her side was Jack Crawford, the smart but passional chief, the "end justifies the means" good old Jack, the master of bending the rules without breaking them and in bending people to the breaking point. Did he realize that his morals were not superior to his own? The last figure he saw was Will Graham.

 _"I let you in. I let you know me. I let you see me_ _ _"_._

 _ _"_ You wanted to be seen_ _ _"_._

 _ _"_ By you. A rare gift I've given you. But you didn't want it_ _ _"_._

 _ _"_ Didn't I?_ _"._

 _ _"_ You would deny me my life_ _ _"_._

 _ _"_ Not your life_ _ _"_._

 _ _"_ My freedom, then. You'd take that from me. Confine me to a basement cell. Do you believe you could change me the way I've changed you?_ _"._

 _ _"_ I already have_ _ _"_._

Those bitter words were spinning like smoke spirals in the deepest darkness of his thoughts. The perception of betrayal did not leave him despite of having forgiven Will. What a terrible disappointment he had turned out to be.

Will had made the inexcusable mistake of believing that Hannibal's death would bring him peace of mind, when all he had to do to get it was embracing his own nature, knowing his own darkness, his limits, twists and turns, his true self. Such miscalculation had lead to a chain of unstoppable and tragic events.

Francis Dollarhide, with all his potential, was a weapon of choice to push Graham to the abyss, an unavoidable path to set him free from his own chains, from the cage that he had artfully build for himself. Only one of them would rise victorious from that contest, Hannibal knew he had as many chances to live as ha had to die in the process and was ready for whichever. But his goal was to help Will to emerge from his shell.

 _ _"_ Save yourself, kill them all_ _ _"_._

Of course he could have escaped when Will and Francis set him free from his reclusion but that was an option that he had not even contemplated, he had to know, he had to nurse the monster. His black heart rejoiced in Will's victory. Would he have the bravado to finally peer in the dark mirror and accept its reflection? A reflection which had Hannibal's face.

After murdering Dollarhide together, Hannibal regained his trust in Will. Which was the answer to that confidence? A fall. A meager attempt to put an end to life of both. At that moment, while he struggled with Will's merciless arms in free fall towards the rolling Atlantic, Hannibal finally fully understood that Will would never embrace his true self. What lay on the other side of the looking glass was too horrendous to see for this Alice. Thus, he had broken the mirror.

Will Graham would be never capable of come to terms with his dark side although the result was to become an undone human being. He couldn't deal with his acts and its consequences nor assume them as an intrinsic part of him. No, he would never have peace and have made the decision to never be complete. Hannibal on his part had also made a resolution: no one would ever steal his freedom again. He would never misplace his trust again. The teacup was shattered again.

Hannibal had loved him as Narcissus loved his image in the serene waters of the pond. But if there was a chance to find a kindred spirit in Will this possibility had died four years ago by Will's own hand.

The lights went abruptly on in the cell and in all the dungeon, that was the common name for the groups of cells reserved for violent criminals, inside the Baltimore State Hospital for the Criminally Insane. All evidence of Santa Maria de Fiore's gorgeous interior was gone now and with that its ghosts.

Another day had started. Doctor Lecter, who barely slept at night, used the on-and-off's of the electric light and the orderlies' shifts to keep track of the passing of time. If he could only have a window…

Inside his memory palace the vast rooms appeared one after another, the great foyer with holes on the floor, passages to more sordid places were avoided with gracious movements. A long corridor with old paintings followed, to finally arrive to the marble stairs guarded by the astonishing ancient sculptures of Marcus Aurelius and Dante, they led to first floor. In the music room his mother was playing the piano… _Mmm, better not to dig into that now_. Another room contained a shining April morning with a clear sky of azure and striking green hills, that was the view from the window in his room open to the fresh season breeze.

His thin, long fingers, child-like fingers, were caressing his dark wooden secretaire, the books on his small bookcase, the cool surface of the beveled glass window. Some footsteps were approaching from the corridor, hurried, tiny steps…His sister's steps.

But the sound of heels brought him back from his Palace. This sound, so promising and real, had delivered him here with prodigious speed. The scent in the air was divine as well… Inwardly, he got curious about in which other ways could he be pleased with the unexpected visitor.

(1) Lovecrime - Siouxsie Sioux and Brian Reitzell version.


	2. Chapter 2 - The Perfect Drug

**Chapter 2: The Perfect Drug**

 _AN: this chapter is like the first one, the result of combining the book, the movie and the script. It has the mission of setting the foundations of the character's relationship and mutual interest. I hope you enjoy it!_

 _Disclaimer: I don't own anything but the plot._

* * *

 _It is crazy to want what is impossible. And impossible for the wicked not to do so._

 _Marcus Aurelius_

Hannibal Lecter was standing in front of the glass of his cell, his mind was holding the memory of Clarice Starling's figure in the other side, the trainee Jack Crawford had sent to him. A trainee. He parted his lips slowly to retaining her scent from the credential she gave him just a moment before, when she was already present. He recreated her from his senses as if he had a vomeronasal organ like cats.

He was pondering yet if Crawford had an incredible faith in the girl or wanted to destroy her, both possibilities amused him. Although destroying Jack could be still more fun. Finally, he decided it was the first option: Jack wasn't the type of personality that seeks others misfortune by nature, he was just devil-may-care with the people under his command, so this option got him closer to the second source of fun: good ol' Jack was interested in her, on her potential. He himself must be blind to losing sight of the raw and brutal power of her will combined with her cleverness, and for a moment he almost lost it. It was when she tried to typecast him and he sent her to fly. It wasn't the ambition that had touched his nerve, but the human arrogant urgency of classifying the unclassifiable, and the searching of security in a world where typhoid and swans came from the same place.

And then… What a marvelous surprise: she showed her claws and a beautifully sharped tongue. She challenged him to point his high perception to himself, to look in the mirror, and Hannibal Lecter never declined a good challenge.

And then, Miggs in the cell next to him decided to commit the unspeakable rudeness of throwing his semen to the Special Agent Starling… Why had he feel the urgency of countervail Miggs acts? That, certainly, was something to analyze later. Nevertheless, she had returned to him heeding his request with a stoical expression on her face and performing such a display of resilience and stubbornness that he couldn't ignore it, he had to offer something he knew she couldn't resist; a change in the game but, what life would be without the rush of the unexpected? He thought to himself while he walked towards the glass to have a chat with Miggs, certainly thrown his seed to her wasn't the smartest move with the lady.

* * *

Doctor Lecter was watching Barney while the orderly adjusted the leashes around his body to prevent a possible escape, one part of him was upset with himself for actually believing in the trainee scam, there was nothing he would wish for most, at that moment, than having her between his hands to punish her for her rudeness. But on the other hand... He had to be fair, the girl had earned a hint of respect from his part. For the time going, she looked like a worthy opponent, and that made her interesting in his eyes. So, maybe he could wait a while to dine those beautiful eyes and her entrails; now there were other far more interesting plans on the horizon.

Chilton's words came to his mind again, he closed his eyes:

 _"Years of silence, and then Jack Crawford sends down his girl and you just went to jelly, didn't you? What was it that got you, Hannibal? Was it those good, hard ankles? The way her hair shines? She's glorious, isn't she? Remote and glorious. A winter sunset of a girl, that's the way I think of her. I know it's been some time since you've seen a winter sunset, but take my word for it._

 _"I know what you're afraid of. It's not_ pain, _or solitude. It's indignity you can't stand, Hannibal, you're like a cat that way. I'm on my_ honor _to look after you, Hannibal, and I do it. No personal considerations have ever entered into our relationship, from my end. And I'm looking after you now._

 _"There never was a deal for you, with Senator Martin, but there is now. Or there could be. I've been on the phone for hours on your behalf and for the sake of that girl. I'm going to tell you the first condition: you speak only through me. I alone publish a professional account of this, my successful interview with you. You publish nothing. I have exclusive access to any material from Catherine_ Martin, _if she should be saved. "That condition is non-negotiable. You'll answer me now. Do you accept that condition?"._

He recalled every word. Who would ever thought that Chilton would be so useful after all? Vanitas vanitatum, dixit Ecclesiastes, vanitas vanitatum et omnia vanitas.

"The Tennessee State Police will take custody of you at the airport, the governor has agreed".

"The State Police, just what I need", he thought to himself. Of course Barney, the physical thundering, careful, clever orderly had to express his dissent with that procedure and Chilton had to dispose of the guard objections to prove his power... and in a more surreptitious way, his recklessness.

The goodbye to his thoughtful and rigorous caretaker was short but meaningful, they both knew that Lecter would try to escape, they both knew that, hopefully, they wouldn't see each other again. And after that... the sunset.

For a moment, Doctor Lecter's mind was filled only with colors. Living, vibrant, luminous colors. The vivid amber caress across his face touched a very deep memory in his soul: a sunny afternoon long time ago, Misha running with her tiny feet on the green shining grass, an eggplant so big in her child hands, purple, purple like the stained blood in her dress weeks later in the aftermath of the kill, like this beautiful and merciless sunset.

May the Gods not be in our favor, because every single time the Gods had looked at mankind it had ended in tragedy.

As the aircraft took off and the sun crossed its warm path through his body, he closed his eyes just to feel something close to peace for a minute. But not for too long, because there's no rest for the wicked... Maybe later. How long has passed since the last time he saw the crimson gleam of the blood under the sunlight? How much time since he had watched the sunlight at all?

When he opened his eyes a guard was staring directly at him and while the golden light was lighting his maroon irises, turning them shining and red, the police guard made the sign of the holy cross on himself. Hannibal's reply was a grin behind the mask; _this will be fun_.

* * *

It was all a surprise when he heard that distinct pace in the other corner of the room, her pace that he would recognize anywhere. Again, her voice traveled across the place like a faint whisper, a delicate wave of sound caressing the white walls and the moldings of oak while she was talking with officer Pembry. The measurement of his curiosity equaled his sense of betrayal and anger, that sour taste at the bottom of his tongue. Even so, he wanted to hear what she had to tell. Why was she there? Would she have discovered...? That would be interesting indeed.

"Good morning, Clarice". He finished his reading and turned around, the first thing he saw was her auburn hair shining as if her thoughts were on fire.

 _He's a cemetery mink. He lives down in a ribcage in the dry leaves of a heart._

He greeted her without turning to face her, taking the time to finish the page he was reading, stating clearly: You came to me, this conversation starts when I want it to.

"Good morning, Clarice", his voice metallic and calculated. Something inside her trembled and fainted a little.

Then he changed his posture and demeanor twisting in the chair in the most curious way, casual and cautious, with his forearms on the chair back and his chin resting on them. He was willing to listen but with the back of the chair covering his torso, and the most sensitive organs of his body. He was displaying a proclamation of distrust.

This of course was a test, as always, and Starling was completely aware of it. But it was the prize that she doubted about. She hoped it was Catherine Martin's life.

"Dumas tells us that the addition of a crow to bouillon in the fall, when the crow has fattened on juniper berries, greatly improves the color and flavor of stock. How do you like it in the soup, Clarice?"

She looked at his sleek head trapped for a second in his luster dark feathers, then again to his maroon ablaze eyes. "I thought you might want your drawings, the stuff from your cell, just until you get your view."

"How thoughtful. Dr. Chilton's euphoric about you and Jack Crawford being put off the case. Or did they send you in for one last wheedle?"

The officers were talking at Officer Pembry's desk.

"They didn't send me. I just came", she confessed lowering the volume of her voice but Lecter could perceive that there wasn't a little shame or another soft feeling in her tone, but the strong will he was slowly becoming to be fond of. Because I'm mad at you, Doctor Lecter, you're fooling everyone around while poor Catherine rooted in some hidden place. I'm equally mad and intrigued.

"People will say we're in love. Don't you want to ask about Billy Rubin, Clarice?".

"Dr. Lecter, you find out everything. You couldn't have talked with this 'William Rubin', even once, and come out knowing so little about him... You made him up, didn't you?". If there's something Lecter and she had in common was their ability to read people, he couldn't trick her this time and that gave him a pleasant chill down his spine. Pure excitement that came to be blended with the contempt and the curiosity.

"Clarice... you're hardly in a position to accuse me of lying", there were mixed emotions under Lecter's perfect facade and his words betrayed him this time, his tone bitter and polite was a sign of how deep this scam had provoked his anger, but at the same time he was willing to give her a chance to prove her worthiness, to confirm that he read her well in the first place.

A little exchange between teacher and student followed, he needed to put her brain in motion, to pump her mind to make her realize that she didn't need a teacher anymore. _Become your own master, Clarice. All you need is in the case file, show me who you really are._

"What's your worst memory of childhood?".

He felt the urge to ask. She didn't know of course, how could she? But he knew that maybe this time was the last time he could see her, he felt the compulsion of to have something from her that became right from her deepest self, a glimpse of Clarice Starling's hard core. If he can't consume her at least he can consume her mind.

The subtle changes in her face and her voice, the _in crescendo_ glassy gleam in her eyes, but yet with no tears at all, her stubbornness on remaining unscathed in the outside... All this precious details, he drank them like wine, savoring the bouquet, opening a room in his Memory Palace for her. Clarice and her lambs, an orphan like him.

And suddenly, Chilton entered in scene, with his awful manners told Clarice that she got to leave, another reason to dine the bastard later. Pembry and Boyle crowded in around her, who stared repeatedly in Lecter's direction while she was walked to the exit door.

"Brave Clarice. Will you let me know if ever the lambs stop screaming, won't you?".

But she was stuck, asking the name of the killer, demanding something more of him while she was guided outside... He wasn't the only one who was collecting feelings and memories, ignoring the woods and focused on the tree before her.

Both of them were frustrated now, linked so intimately by the memory told by her and those ones untold by him that almost hurt. That was the moment when he raised his voice, willingly given her the chance to be one step closer to him, a path to forgiveness and a test. "Clarice, your case file".

She threw herself at it. She could only think in her lamb, but something else too: she didn't fear him, she understood the rules that he followed in his MO. His index finger touched hers, caressing briefly her skin. And then, she was out of his life... At least temporarily.

They flung her outside the building like a street dog and there to the airport in a fast car, two police officers escorted her to make sure she wouldn't miss the plane Kendler ordered her to take. All the way she was recalling to herself: _He's a cemetery mink. He lives down in a ribcage in the dry leaves of a heart._

She thought again, but this time something ached in her chest.


	3. Chapter 3 - The Great Below

_AN: Here is where my story departs from canon, Bon Appétit!_

 _Disclaimer: I don't own anything but the plot._

* * *

Chapter 3: The Great Below

Clarice Starling was awake, her eyes were wide open but everything around her was like a dream... Or a nightmare. She was still in shock, holding back her breath as if he had taken it with him when he ran away. For a few seconds after she heard the swish of the meat cleaver she thought he had cut his own hand with... but when she opened her eyes and looked there was lesser blood than expected and he was gone.

Suddenly, the kitchen seems to be enormous and colder than before, Clarice felt her mind trapped in some kind of time loop in which her mind was replaying the previous scene over and over again. Against her stronger common sense she missed his presence and in her spirit, loath and longing were fighting each other fiercely.

Numb, though able to move, she walked outside the house where the lights of the helicopters were scanning the surroundings. The FBI and the police had arrived and soon she was enclosed by federal agents, with her hands lifted she took a moment to see the empty and bloody side of the handcuff pending from her wrist and then blinked a few times, internalizing what had just happened.

Yes, she had handcuffed him while he was stealing a kiss from her and he had chopped a part of his hand when she refused to give away the key.

"Above or below the wrist, Clarice? This is really going to hurt...". Dramatic bastard!

According to his rigid code that was the most plausible path to follow, having in mind he had stated long ago he would never hurt her. So far he had kept his promise and in that procedure he had assured both's safety: her hand and his freedom.

What happened afterwards was blurry, the memory of being lying in a medical stretcher and the faces of the doctors and agents looking at her like she was herself some kind of monster wasn't helping. On her way to the hospital she lost consciousness.

It took three days to get her body and mind clean of the drug feast that had taken place in her system. Throughout the time she had been unconscious mind and body seemed to have been travelling along a calm stream, going with the flow towards the sea. She could almost feel the soft and cool embrace of the water around her, could almost hear the chamber music whose agonizing peaks reminded her of the peace and fury of a tide. In that dream she was Ophelia and her hair was floating around her like a veil surrounding her naked body. Doctor Lecter's voice was roaring in the rolling waves of the sea but she couldn't fathom what he was saying… What was it? "You are a warrior, Clarice". Yes, I am. I can be as strong as I wish to be. I'm not Ophelia, I will not drown in this sea...

When she opened her eyes FBI Agent Pearsall and two more men were standing beside her bed, one a young FBI Agent and the other one a cop. The view of the first one brought a bitter after taste to her mouth given their last encounter where Pearsall, Noonan and Krendler had decided placing her on administrative leave. The view of the younger one woke up her suspicion just with his body language. She had seen him in the bureau building but had never worked directly with him. The third man seemed to be self-confident and smart.

" _Did you ever think, Clarice, why the philistines don't understand you?",_ the Doctor's voice again in her mind clouding her thoughts.

The four of them exchanged looks and an awkward silence until Pearsall, her former chief, began to speak. "Agent Starling, I'm here to speak in the name of the Bureau. This is Special Agent Aced Growths and Detective Clarence Franks, from sheriff's department", both men nodded. "After the Muskrat Farm incident you were listed as missing, since we found John Bringham's registered .45 Colt -under your guard after his death- in the crime scene but no other sign of your presence there, and you had banished from your home. Four days later, we found you in a rented mansion on the Chesapeake Bay severely drugged by Hannibal Lecter with Paul Krendler's body in a wheelchair in the kitchen, and a piece of his brain cooked in a pan". Her shock at that moment was very real. Not because she hadn't forgotten Krendler's death, but because the images of that moment with its sounds and tasty odours came back to her from some little room in a corner of her mind. The memory of how good the brains smelled gave her nausea, her stiff shoulders and her clenched jaw revealed her inner tension and the feelings around Pearsall's words. The men watched her carefully but only the detective Frank gave her a recipient where to puke, and right on time.

Once she had finished Pearsall waited a few moments and continued "Starling, we know you're a victim here". -" _Really? Your accusatory look doesn't say the same, Chief"_ , she thought to herself-. "Although your situation is very complex."

"And that is because, Sir...", she managed to say. The rage was slowly beginning to build up on her.

"We need to perform a swab test and a rape kit..."

"A rape kit?", her voice was louder this time "With all due respect Sir, I don't need a rape kit. We know how Hannibal Lecter's MO works, he isn't a rapist". The memories of the Doctor working on her, suturing the wounds while she was drugged came back in a flash and a shudder racked her body, fear and excitement mixed up together. The impression of not being quite herself returned to her, not with the struck certainty of knowledge, but in the form of a wild animal roaming in the dark, a bug humming under the cocoon.

Certainly, wondering about her inner transformations wasn't a wise move to make in front of her… Enemies? Well, positively not his friends anymore, not even her allies.

"Agent Starling, you have to understand, the rape kit is the most rational decision...", this time it was the detective Frank who was speaking.

Rational? What curious choice of words… Maybe her reason was what was under exam. What was she afraid of? "Goddamit, Clarice, take the fucking test", she thought "Don't attract more suspicion on you. You don't need that now. What you need is time, buy time".

"Ok" she replied dryly, crossing arms on her chest, swallowing her pride and her stubbornness just for once. "This is a waste of time, their waste of time". The men left the room in searching for the nurse.

With the nurse came along a physician of the FBI Forensic Department, both females. The test took two hours, after that she was so tired she fell asleep. The touch of a warm hand on hers drew her out of her dreamless dream, it was Ardelia.

* * *

When she opened her eyes Ms. Mapp was standing by her side with a worried expression on her face and swollen eyes "Shh, don't speak. I'm not supposed to be here, I sneaked in" she explained in a low, soothing voice. "I was worried as Hell, Starling. I thought you were dead", her wiry arm trembled as she pressed Clarice's hand may be too hard, at first she thought Ardelia was angry with her but then she figured out her friend had been under a lot of stress.

Ardelia's creamy brown skin was shining under the room pale electric light and her chocolate curls came down along with her head as a cascade while she breathed out heavily. "They declared you a missing person; I knew the son of a bitch had something to do with all this, I knew he had you kidnapped ", she managed not to sob.

"You mean Krendler or Lecter?" Starling asked with the first smile since all this had begun.

Ardelia chuckled a bit "Both". The pressure on Starling's hand diminished as Ardelia's shoulders relaxed from the initial tension.

"They are going to charge me, right?

"Why? For being kidnapped and drugged by a psycho? Under my dead body" she wanted to sound affirmative but she couldn't "Doctor Lecter left a message in Margot Verger's answering machine and took the blame for the Muskrat Farm butchery and Mason Verger's death, that is closed case. You only have to explain why John's gun was there and where Lecter kidnapped you". She went silent for a few seconds before continuing, letting her words sank in Clarice "It will be silly if the Bureau wanted to charge you for Krendler's death, but if they do, we will fight".

"Mason Verger is dead?" she inquired almost speechless, her mind was working fast. John's gun! She had almost forgotten it. But aside about that, a phone call? Could be a letter but definitely not a phone call. Not at all the Doctor's MO. True, he had called her once on the night of her graduation but this… This was really strange, there was something else going on here.

She forced herself to come back to the conversation. "Of course they wanted to do it. They have come here to see if I make a slip, if I have a gap in my story, even before sending me a lawyer", Starling sounded really pissed off and Ardelia gestured her to slow the tone "I had to take a rape kit because they wouldn't take a no for an answer". I had taken the rape kit and something more, she thought to herself. It had been a hard and delicate choice to be made and had required all her skill not being caught in the process but now, she almost congratulated herself for her decision.

Ardelia looked at her doubting if she should or shouldn't ask what she wanted to ask, finally she decided her honesty towards her friend couldn't be compromised "And what do you believe the test will tell us?"

Clarice looked at Ardelia directly in the eye "Doctor Lecter isn't a rapist. He has a strong behaviour code and for him to rape would be unspeakably rude" she explained a little bit tired of the topic "Yes, he is insane and yes, he eats the people he believes they deserve it. I'm not in that range".

"And in what range do you think he puts you?" FBI Special Agent Mapp asked her, but suddenly she didn't want to know the answer, she was there for her friend. "Forget it, girl" her hand weaving in the air. "I came here to help you. I have two things to tell you, off the record. You won't like either of them".

"Shoot".

"The Bureau found a bag with human remains in the mansion of Chesapeake Bay: they were your father's, Clarice" before she could react Ardelia said, "And Jack Crawford has passed away".

* * *

Again the awakening was unpleasant, she had opened her eyes to the dying lights of the twilight between spasms, gasping for air. She had been crying until she had fallen asleep of tiredness, now her cheeks were aching because of the tears she shed for her father and for Jack hours ago in the silent loneliness of her hospital room. She couldn't remember anything of her nightmare but she had the strange feeling of having her head working constantly, even in dreams.

Ardelia had gone with the promise of coming back later, after Jack's funeral the next morning. Her friend was determined to fight with Noonan if it was necessary. She had talked about lawyers, Clarice's good records and her position as a victim. But Clarice knew they wanted to take her down, to make her vanish, because with her Paul Krendler's death and all the mess around it would disappear, and Doctor Lecter's shadow over the FBI too. She was the solution to all their problems and they wouldn't let her go.

No, if there was a lamb, it was her this time and her butchers were anxious to slaughter her. She and Ardelia couldn't fight against the FBI machinery, she had to save herself, she had to fly. She saw it clearly for the first time since she had woken up to all this. Over and over again she wondered why the Doctor had exhumed her father's remains and she despised every second without an answer. Patience wasn't one of Clarice's stronger qualities.

Now that she had regained consciousness and clarity of mind, more questions were arising in her head: How had the police found the Chesapeake mansion? Exactly what was Doctor Lecter doing with her? She couldn't remember, just some small flashes and his voice poisoning and drifting every inch of her mind... She was terrified by the fact that she almost missed him. Terrified and angered beyond word.

No, they still have a lot to talk about and certainly the Doctor might agree with her. But first, she needed some information. She managed to get off the bed and stand on her feet, a mild dizziness took her over for a moment and then vanished, she had to be gone after the night shift round, early in the morning. She looked for her bag in the wardrobe, the belongings Ardelia had brought to her from her home: her driver's license, some clothes, money, a photo of Ardelia and Clarice together the night of their graduation, she held it in her hands for a few minutes with mixed emotions. But it was time to move on.

She laid herself again on the bed and waited with the patience that only came from resolution. First was the medical review without changes, then the nurse with the dinner, that one wasn't near her build. Too tall and skinny.

About 1 AM a nurse came into the room to do a scheduled check, from the corner of her eye Clarice had seen a man sitting on the right of the door. The thirty-something woman talked as soon as she noticed Clarice was awake, trying to be friendly -You must feel so protected with your partners outside, Don't you?

It took some seconds to Clarice to weigh the different possibilities and reach a plausible path to follow, the woman was near her size and build. -Yes -she answered making an effort to look worried, she had never enjoyed playing the damsel in distress but this, this was survival. -Are both of them out? -her voice was almost a whisper -I don't want that psycho coming after me here...

-Oh, no, dear -that condescending tone almost broke her facade -There's only one now but the other will come soon -she assured soothing her.

-Good to know.

She jabbed the needle in the nurse's neck while covering her mouth with her hand, once the sedative was empty she held the body against hers until the woman fainted.

The clothes exchange was rushed and soon she was ready to go. Clarice watched the sleeping nurse in the bed while searching in the pockets of the uniform for something useful, the woman snored covered with white sheets and she felt an ache in her chest: this was so wrong... But necessary, she reminded herself.

"Now, go to the left straight to the bottom of the hallway, then go to the first emergency door, and then to the stairs", she told to herself in a whisper "You can do it".

Before she could think twice her hand was on the knob opening the door, she left the room walking without rush, avoiding raising suspicion with her body language.

She heard a low cough on her back and the guard asked: -She is a demanding patient, isn't she? Is everything alright?

Clarice turned her head slightly without revealing her features and answered: -You have no idea. She's sleeping now.

A chuckle from behind dismissed her from the conversation. She followed her path.

Once on the stairs she was almost hyperventilating and her legs trembled, she couldn't faint now, she had to escape. So, this is the way Doctor Lecter had sneaked in the hospitals without being noticed: trusting in the belief that everything is good until something proves that something is wrong.

She lost ten minutes trying the locker key in the nurse pocket, finally she found a bag with car keys and clothes inside, among other things. Twenty minutes later she was on her way to Quantico.

* * *

 _Tracklist_

 _Tristan und Isolde Prelude - Richard Wagner conducted by Karajan_

 _The Great Below – NIN_

 _Right Where It Belongs – NIN_

 _Beautiful Nightmare (Head Down) – NIN_

 _Last Cup of Sorrow – Faith No More_

I'm deranged – David Bowie


	4. Chapter 4 - Came Back Haunted

I know, It's been a while since the last time I updated. This chapter is short, but I give it to you like a teaser of the next chapter that will be online soon. This story is still on my mind, growing, becoming.

* * *

The car was abandoned on the limits of the property near to an out of service entrance, familiar between the students and with less supervision. It had taken twenty minutes of jogging throw the forest to reach one of the lateral entrances only for the cleaning staff, the figures of the training fields had seemed like grotesque sculptures in agony at her passing, the shadows of the high threes cradling her in the wood vastness while she ran.

And now waiting like a hunter in the dark, she felt her guts trembled almost like she couldn't do it. All this was so wrong, and now there was no going back. Why was she doing all this? Vengeance? It was so easy to think of excuses: they make me do it, the first one of course. But Clarice despised all forms of lying, including lying to oneself so, why was she ready to destroy everything she had loved? You fall in love with the Bureau, but the Bureau _doesn't fall in love with you_.

She had fallen in love with the Bureau, but that was long ago. Before the segregation, before the sexism, before Doctor Lecter... But better not to think on that now.

Suddenly one guy of the cleaning crew got out to smoke a cigarette and she stopped questioning herself and set her in motion. Good to know where all the surveillance cameras were and where the staff smoked to not get caught.

She considers the most effective way to knock out the guy, thank God he wasn't too big. She used the surprise factor and approached him from the back, putting her arm around his neck and trying to get her elbow to be as deep around the neck as she can, then she took her other arm and grab her bicep with her hand. Finally, she placed her free hand and put it behind his head and squeezed hard with her wiry arms together to cut off the blood flow to his head. Of course, he struggled but he had no idea what was going on and was put to sleep in seconds.

She tied up the guy, muzzled his mouth and put his uniform on while she left him in a supplies room on the outside of the building. With his card and cart for cover, she was quickly inside, it felt really weird to be in the building this way, as a fugitive, sneaking like a snake, like a criminal: that thought almost took her breath away, it hurt deep in her chest and in her soul.

She couldn't stop the anger flowing through her body helplessly... Rage and sorrow, but no regrets. Every decision she had taken and the path she had chosen to follow was made in the name of justice and rightfulness, to save the lambs. And this place where she was now was the consequence of having had chosen the path to reach justice for her.

Using the stairs she was soon in the basement on the way to her office. While she was walking her footsteps slowed down and stopped at Jack Crawford's office door. "I'm so sorry Jack" she whispered and caressed the door while taking a deep breath, the door was half way open as always and she saw the cigarettes Jack always smoke on the desk and a box of matches. She took it in her hand, staring at them as if it was some kind periapt and put them in her pocket. On the outside of the door, there was a paper with the funeral's hour and place. She memorized it quickly.

She would have wanted more time to say goodbye to her second father in this world but she was on the run and now she needed her pieces of the puzzle. Her footsteps went to the dungeon they gave her as office and she collected the records she got from Barney, the letters Lecter had sent her, some notes of the case file and everything she considered necessary for her quest and put it in a cabin bag she had in a drawer at her desk that she had used to carry things from home to work in the past. Her eyes roamed along her desk and things: her pen, her mug... Signs of an ended life, signs of another person. She didn't feel anger or disappointment, just estrangement.

Something caught her eye, on a table at the corner of the office were some bags that wasn't been there before, the words EVIDENCE set her alarms on: it was her father's bones, the few that remained after all that years and her gun, John Brigham's gun in another bag beside other stuff, obviously confiscated from Muskrat Farm and Chesapeake Bay crime scenes. A flash of that bag on an exquisite table of marble sent chills along her spine and made her blink a few times like she was leaving a nightmare behind, but oh no, the nightmare was here.

She crossed the room and raised it almost with religious reverence feeling the shape of a skull inside, on the back coating with light dust was his hat. His hat, damned! Clarice was trembling with indignation. "You better have a good explanation to this Doctor", she hissed.

Now she needed a distraction; it wasn't really difficult to think of one with all that paper around and a box of matches in her pocket, a short diversion that it will do. The fire alarm on the dungeon was broken for months and she could bet it hadn't been repaired. "Thank you, Jack" she murmured to herself. When the firefighters had arrived she was half way back through the nurse's car with her loot.

* * *

At 5 AM the FBI building was an anthill, chaotic waves of agents and cops were coming and going. Of course, the fire hadn't grown outside the dungeon but the smoke detectors had been activated and everything on the Department of Behavioral Science was wet. Everything.  
So wet that Ardelia considered to put her raincoat on.

"Mapp!" Pearsall's voice raised above the general noise -Over here -the man gesticulated on his way. He was before a wide desk surrounded by other agents.

She hurried through the human wave swirling around, some dirty looks shot at her from here and there. _What was this all about? Like if she had helped Clarice to escape... Wait. Oh, no... They think that_.

When she arrived at the desk it was crowded. "Ol'right people, Clarice Starling is now been searched along and across the state for multiple charges, one of them the destruction of this unit and stealing federal property. She's number one priority, we want her alive and she must not leave the country".

"How could she leave with out friends and money?" a female voice raised from a man taking notes.

"We don't know how her state of mind is, alienated at least. She is going after Lecter, if she thinks she had an idea of where he is and if this place is outside the States she will try to leave. Don't underestimate her. She's dangerous in her actual condition".

"She's going to meet him?" another male voice raised, a tall blond at her left. What was the name of the prick? Bowles?

"She's going for revenge" Ardelia's voice raised almost immediately, defensive. They stared each other and the tension filled the air.

"Great. We can set more detailed the profile with both of you. For the rest there's assigned searching places, I recommend go now before Jack's funeral. You are dismissed". Pearsall looked around urging the agents to work. "You two, with me".

Ardelia sighed.

* * *

Of course, Clarice knew where the predicaments of her escape could be solved.

She was sitting in the dark, at that end of the night in a comfortable armchair. Without a doubt Dr. Lecter would have appreciated the heavy furniture in the room, it was not her case.

Footsteps were heard on the stairs, the woman in a Bordeaux silk robe turned on the light of the little lamp just to find out Clarice's presence, she gasped at the sight of the ex-special agent who was pointing John Brigham's .45 at her in a quite elegant manner like she was on some old spy movie: cold, distant and quite beautiful. For a moment she understood why Hannibal found her so interesting.

"Hello, Alanna".

* * *

 _Tracklist_

 _& The Doomed - A Perfect Circle_

 _& & She's gone - NIN at the old Roadhouse in Twin Peaks_

 _& && Weak and Powerless - A Perfect Circle_


End file.
